Love Letters
by Writer-Girl91
Summary: When Jack receives a love note from Grunt, she and Shepard have a talk. Garrus drunk dares Shepard, and things get interesting. Takes place during ME2, while not being timeline heavy. Eventual F!shep/Jack. M for language and adult situations.
1. The Note

**A/N: **This is just a random idea that popped into my head when my cousin expressed a desire for more f!shep/Jack. I still haven't decided what I think about it, and it may or may not remain a oneshot. I apologize for any typos or errors. Typed this quickly with little editing! Written for Cinnamonzen. :D M for language.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no money from writing this.

Jack paced back and forth furiously in her spot beneath Engineering. It couldn't really be called a room, as it didn't have four walls or a door, but she liked it. Usually, the seclusion gave her a pleasant sense of separation from the rest of the crew, but even that feeling couldn't calm her at the moment. Not that Jack was ever calm.

Shepard's footsteps announced her presence before she came into sight. _For how graceful she is on the battlefield, she's damn noisy coming down a flight of stairs._ Jack continued to pace as Shepard reached the bottom of the stairway, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"This isn't funny, Shepard," Jack nearly growled.

"I can definitely find the humor in the situation." Jack had the overwhelming urge to punch the ex-Alliance officer square in the jaw. Or maybe to shove her up against a wall and kiss her. She didn't know. Anything to get that smug look off of the commander's face.

"Oh, yeah? Then explain to me how getting love notes from a freaky tank-bred Krogan is amusing." Shepard made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like she was trying to hold in a laugh. Biotic blue surged around Jack's clenched fists.

"Relax, Jack." Shepard leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "If anything, you should take it as a compliment."

Jack snorted. "A compliment? How the hell is being romanced by a baby Krogan supposed to be a compliment?"

She stopped pacing and glared at Shepard. Her biotics had settled, but an irritable glow still raged in her eyes. For just a second, Shepard got caught up in the intensity of Jack's gaze, but she quickly shook it off. With the Collectors to deal with, now was not the time to start some whirlwind affair with a member of her crew, not to mention one that was very likely mentally unstable. She was also pretty sure that Jack didn't swing her way, anyhow.

"Grunt was bred from some of the strongest Krogans of all time. He wouldn't show interest in someone who wasn't just as powerful as he is." Jack contemplated what Shepard was saying. It made sense, in a way. Grunt was a pretty badass fighter after all. "Anyway, he's been acting pretty strangely lately. All of this could just be some variant of Krogan teenage hormones or something. I'll say something to him about it."

Shepard pushed off from the wall, and started moving toward the stairs. "Can't say I blame him for showing interest, though," she said on her way out. Jack stared after her, slightly dazed by that last statement.

_Well, fuck me. What the hell was that all about._


	2. The Dare

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Bioware, EA, etc. I do this for fun, not profit.

The wall-length fish tank filled Shepard's cabin with an eerie blue glow. Void of aquatic lifeforms, the tank was mostly a glorified nightlight. A blank email filled the screen of Shepard's personal terminal, glaring brightly in the dim room. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard, flexed slightly as if about to type, and retracted to wipe nervously against her pants. She grimaced at the tackiness of her palms. Why was she sweating? This was just a joke, a prank... right?

When Garrus made the suggestion at the bar, the idea had seemed hilarious. Shepard couldn't say no. She wasn't one to back down from a dare, especially not one issued after having a few too many drinks. As first human Spectre, she had a reputation to maintain. Joker had been there too, spurring her on with chants of, "do it, do it!" There was no way she was getting out of this one.

After sobering up a bit, though, the challenge seemed less enticing. Would they really know if she chickened out? The only proof of her failure would be the fact that she was still alive. Because the task she'd been set on was potentially life threatening. If she went through with it, she expected at least a black eye or a broken nose. Were the bragging rights really worth the potential pain and suffering? Shepard sighed. The dare was more than just a matter of pride. Her friends were worried about her. Garrus' muttering on the way back to the Normandy was evidence of that. As she helped support his weight, he had rambled on about how she shouldn't be so alone all the time. She didn't want him to worry, and if going along with this dare would help, she'd do it.

Groaning, Shepard wearily rubbed her face. The clock on her terminal said it was after three in the morning. The stress of trying to stop the Collectors combined with the fading alcohol buzz filled her with a bone deep exhaustion. Maybe, if she crawled into bed now, she'd be able to snatch a couple hours of sleep, a moment of reprieve from the fate of the galaxy hanging on her shoulders. Maybe.

Shepard started to type, paused, and erased the line of text. It wasn't just fear of physical harm that made her reluctant to send the message. By expressing what was on her mind, she would be completely vulnerable, a state she'd never entered willingly. Sure, she'd had flings on occasion, but sharing her feelings was a realm of unfamiliarity. Her career had always kept her too busy to consider making time for intimate relationships. The closest she'd come to opening up to another person had been with Ash, but that romance had ended before it had a chance to develop. Shepard grimaced, pushing away the memories.

Loss decorated her past like the ugly, thin scars that traced the curves of her face. Mindoir. Akuze. Virmire. The destruction of the original Normandy. They were all harsh reminders of the fragility of life. Perhaps that's why Garrus was so concerned about her. Even without the Collectors and Reapers looming over them, time was short. The future was unpredictable.

Resolved, Shepard typed a message and hit send. A twinge of nervousness fluttered in her stomach, but it was too late to turn back. She just hoped she hadn't made a horrible mistake. Turning off her terminal, Shepard staggered over to her bed and collapsed onto the soft mattress. Much tossing and turning ensued before sleep came.


End file.
